Complete Prose Works
with a cordon of arm'd guards, marching along Pennsylvania avenue. The
most motley collection I ever saw, all sorts of rig, all sorts of hats
and caps, many fine-looking young fellows, some of them shame-faced,
some sickly, most of them dirty, shirts very dirty and long worn, &c.
They tramp'd along without order, a huge huddling mass, not in ranks. I
saw some of the spectators laughing, but I felt like anything else but
laughing. These deserters are far more numerous than would be thought.
Almost every day I see squads of them, sometimes two or three at a time,
with a small guard; sometimes ten or twelve, under a larger one. (I
hear that desertions from the army now in the field have often averaged
10,000 a month. One of the commonest sights in Washington is a squad of
deserters.)
A GLIMPSE OF WAR'S HELL-SCENES
In one of the late movements of our troops in the valley, (near
Upperville, I think,) a strong force of Moseby's mounted guerillas
attack'd a train of wounded, and the guard of cavalry convoying them.
The ambulances contain'd about 60 wounded, quite a number of them
officers of rank. The rebels were in strength, and the capture of
the train and its partial guard after a short snap was effectually
accomplish'd. No sooner had our men surrender'd, the rebels instantly
commenced robbing the train and murdering their prisoners, even the
wounded. Here is the scene, or a sample of it, ten minutes after.
Among the wounded officers in the ambulances were one, a lieutenant of
regulars, and another of higher rank. These two were dragg'd out on
the ground on their backs, and were now surrounded by the guerillas,
a demoniac crowd, each member of which was stabbing them in different
parts of their bodies. One of the officers had his feet pinn'd firmly
to the ground by bayonets stuck through them and thrust into the ground.
These two officers, as afterwards found on examination, had receiv'd
about twenty such thrusts, some of them through the mouth, face, &c. The
wounded had all been dragg'd (to give a better chance also for plunder,)
out of their wagons; some had been effectually dispatch'd, and their
bodies were lying there lifeless and bloody. Others, not yet dead,
but horribly mutilated, were moaning or groaning. Of our men who
surrender'd, most had been thus maim'd or slaughter'd.
At this instant a force of our cavalry, who had been following the
train at some interval, charged suddenly upon the secesh captors, who
proceeded at once to make the best escape they could. Most of them got
away, but we gobbled two officers and seventeen men, in the very acts
just described. The sight was one which admitted of little discussion,
as may be imagined. The seventeen captur'd men and two officers were put
under guard for the night, but it was decided there and then that they
should die. The next morning the two officers were taken in the
town, separate places, put in the centre of the street, and shot. The
seventeen men were taken to an open ground, a little one side. They
were placed in a hollow square, half-encompass'd by two of our cavalry
regiments, one of which regiments had three days before found the bloody
corpses of three of their men hamstrung and hung up by the heels to
limbs of trees by Moseby's guerillas, and the other had not long before
had twelve men, after surrendering, shot and then hung by the neck to
limbs of trees, and jeering inscriptions pinn'd to the breast of one of
the corpses, who had been a sergeant. Those three, and those twelve, had
been found, I say, by these environing regiments. Now, with revolvers,
they form'd the grim cordon of the seventeen prisoners. The latter were
placed in the midst of the hollow square, unfasten'd, and the ironical
remark made to them that they were now to be given "a chance for
themselves." A few ran for it. But what use? From every side the deadly
pills came. In a few minutes the seventeen corpses strew'd the hollow
square. I was curious to know whether some of the Union soldiers, some
few, (some one or two at least of the youngsters,) did not abstain from
shooting on the helpless men. Not one. There was no exultation, very
little said, almost nothing, yet every man there contributed his shot.
Multiply the above by scores, aye hundreds--verify it in all the forms
that different circumstances, individuals, places, could afford--light
it with every lurid passion, the wolf's, the lion's lapping thirst for
blood--the passionate, boiling volcanoes of human revenge for comrades,
brothers slain--with the light of burning farms, and heaps of smutting,
smouldering black embers--and in the human heart everywhere black, worse
embers--and you have an inkling of this war.
GIFTS--MONEY--DISCRIMINATION
As a very large proportion of the wounded came up from the front without
a cent of money in their pockets, I soon discover'd that it was about
the best thing I could do to raise their spirits, and show them that
somebody cared for them, and practically felt a fatherly or brotherly
interest in them, to give them small sums in such cases, using tact and
discretion about it. I am regularly supplied with funds for this purpose
by good women and men in Boston, Salem, Providence, Brooklyn, and
New York. I provide myself with a quantity of bright new ten-cent and
five-cent bills, and, when I think it incumbent, I give 25 or 30
cents, or perhaps 50 cents, and occasionally a still larger sum to some
particular case. As I have started this subject, I take opportunity to
ventilate the financial question. My supplies, altogether voluntary,
mostly confidential, often seeming quite Providential, were numerous
and varied. For instance, there were two distant and wealthy ladies,
sisters, who sent regularly, for two years, quite heavy sums, enjoining
that their names should be kept secret. The same delicacy was indeed a
frequent condition. From several I had _carte blanche_. Many were entire
strangers. From these sources, during from two to three years, in the
manner described, in the hospitals, I bestowed, as almoner for others,
many, many thousands of dollars. I learn'd one thing conclusively--that
beneath all the ostensible greed and heartlessness of our times there
is no end to the generous benevolence of men and women in the United
States, when once sure of their object. Another thing became clear to
me--while _cash_ is not amiss to bring up the rear, tact and magnetic
sympathy and unction are, and ever will be, sovereign still.
ITEMS FROM MY NOTE BOOKS
Some of the half-eras'd, and not over-legible when made, memoranda of
things wanted by one patient or another, will convey quite a fair idea.
D. S. G., bed 52, wants a good book; has a sore, weak throat; would like
some horehound candy; is from New Jersey, 28th regiment. C. H. L., 145th
Pennsylvania, lies in bed 6, with jaundice and erysipelas; also wounded;
stomach easily nauseated; bring him some oranges, also a little tart
jelly; hearty, full-blooded young fellow--(he got better in a few days,
and is now home on a furlough.) J. H. G., bed 24, wants an undershirt,
drawers, and socks; has not had a change for quite a while; is evidently
a neat, clean boy from New England--(I supplied him; also with a comb,
tooth-brush, and some soap and towels; I noticed afterward he was the
cleanest of the whole ward.) Mrs. G., lady-nurse, ward F, wants a bottle
of brandy--has two patients imperatively requiring stimulus--low with
wounds and exhaustion. (I supplied her with a bottle of first-rate
brandy from the Christian commission rooms.)
A CASE FROM SECOND BULL RUN
Well, Poor John Mahay is dead. He died yesterday. His was a painful and
long-lingering case (see p. 24 _ante_.) I have been with him at times
for the past fifteen months. He belonged to company A, 101st New York,
and was shot through the lower region of the abdomen at second Bull Run,
August, '62. One scene at his bedside will suffice for the agonies of
nearly two years. The bladder had been perforated by a bullet going
entirely through him. Not long since I sat a good part of the morning by
his bedside, ward E, Armory square. The water ran out of his eyes from
the intense pain, and the muscles of his face were distorted, but he
utter'd nothing except a low groan now and then. Hot moist cloths were
applied, and reliev'd him somewhat. Poor Mahay, a mere boy in age, but
old in misfortune. He never knew the love of parents, was placed in
infancy in one of the New York charitable institutions, and subsequently
bound out to a tyrannical master in Sullivan county, (the scars of whose
cowhide and club remain'd yet on his back.) His wound here was a most
disagreeable one, for he was a gentle, cleanly, and affectionate boy.
He found friends in his hospital life, and, indeed, was a universal
favorite. He had quite a funeral ceremony.
ARMY SURGEONS--AID DEFICIENCIES
I must bear my most emphatic testimony to the zeal, manliness, and
professional spirit and capacity, generally prevailing among the
surgeons, many of them young men, in the hospitals and the army. I will
not say much about the exceptions, for they are few; (but I have met
some of those few, and very incompetent and airish they were.) I never
ceas'd to find the best men, and the hardest and most disinterested
workers, among the surgeons in the hospitals. They are full of genius,
too. I have seen many hundreds of them and this is my testimony. There
are, however, serious deficiencies, wastes, sad want of system, in the
commissions, contributions, and in all the voluntary, and a great part
of the governmental nursing, edibles, medicines, stores, &c. (I do not
say surgical attendance, because the surgeons cannot do more than human
endurance permits.) Whatever puffing accounts there may be in the papers
of the North, this is the actual fact. No thorough previous preparation,
no system, no foresight, no genius. Always plenty of stores, no doubt,
but never where they are needed, and never the proper application.
Of all harrowing experiences, none is greater than that of the days
following a heavy battle. Scores, hundreds of the noblest men on earth,
uncomplaining, lie helpless, mangled, faint, alone, and so bleed to
death, or die from exhaustion, either actually untouch'd at all, or
merely the laying of them down and leaving them, when there ought to be
means provided to save them.
THE BLUE EVERYWHERE
This city, its suburbs, the capitol, the front of the White House, the
places of amusement, the Avenue, and all the main streets, swarm with
soldiers this winter, more than ever before. Some are out from the
hospitals, some from the neighboring camps, &c. One source or another,
they pour plenteously, and make, I should say, the mark'd feature in the
human movement and costume-appearance of our national city. Their blue
pants and overcoats are everywhere. The clump of crutches is heard up
the stairs of the paymasters' offices, and there are characteristic
groups around the doors of the same, often waiting long and wearily
in the cold. Toward the latter part of the afternoon, you see the
furlough'd men, sometimes singly, sometimes in small squads, making
their way to the Baltimore depot. At all times, except early in the
morning, the patrol detachments are moving around, especially during the
earlier hours of evening, examining passes, and arresting all soldiers
without them. They do not question the one-legged, or men badly disabled
or main'd, but all others are stopt. They also go around evenings
through the auditoriums of the theatres, and make officers and all show
their passes, or other authority, for being there.
A MODEL HOSPITAL
_Sunday, January 29th, 1865_.--Have been in Armory-square this
afternoon. The wards are very comfortable, new floors and plaster walls,